Fight Club ⚣ ✓

01

Dante

"Mister?"

I heard someone call from somewhere within the busy crowd. It took serious maneuvering to wade through a large group of people who were making their way inside the bar. Howard failed to mention it could get this busy on a fucking Tuesday night, so here I was on my first night of work, struggling to maintain my composure. I think it was after the ten billionth spilled drink, did I then decide some fresh air would do me a whole lot of good.

Now, upon being thrust out into the busy streets of New York City, I realized fresh air might not actually exist here.

"Mister? Do you have some change?" I heard the same voice call out again. Even with a second glance around, I still didn't see anyone. Where was that voice coming from?

"Mister?" I felt a hand tap me on the shoulder.

As I turned around, a man I had never seen before in my entire life was staring back at me expectantly. He and I were around the same height, but there were startling differences. Like the fact that he was missing a tooth... and a good amount of clothes.

"Do you have any change?" His eyes were wide and bloodshot when he spoke. By the way he moved, I could tell the man was clearly on something... however my very limited knowledge on drugs left me perplexed as to what that was.

I felt my heart break slightly when I saw him. "I'm sorry," I replied, "but I don't have anything." His face made this odd expression. He looked like if I had offended him or something. I didn't understand this sudden irritation towards me.

"I said, do you got some change?" He repeated his question. I looked around again, hoping to find anyone else who was tuning in to this quickly escalating situation. It was just my luck that the streets had since started to clear out.

Kassie mentioned we were close to bar close. This was something I was very grateful for... up until now. 

There were a few people walking by, but no one stopped. I was learning pretty quickly that minding your own business was the New Yorker way. And thus, I was left alone to deal with this man.

Fuck.

"I'm sorry sir, but I really don't have any change." I did my best to offer him another polite yet sympathetic smile. Clearly that dd nothing to put him at ease, because when I went to turn around, I felt a hand on my shoulder again. This time it yanked me back.

I geared up, fully prepared to confront the man for his actions, but that opportunity never came. The last thing I could remember about that night was a closed fist rapidly approaching my face before it knocked me out cold.

•

And this is the story of how I got punched in the face on my first day in New York City... by a crackhead.

My bad.

I meant to say this is the story of how I was saved by an incredibly attractive individual after being punched in the face on my first day in New York City... by a crackhead.

I'll soon come to find out that his name was Willis.

Not the incredibly attractive individual, but the crackhead.

And I'd argue, to this day, that that crackhead seemed more like a Steve.

•

Eleven Hours Earlier...

"Do you have any experience in bartending?"

I glanced up from the liquor stained job description packet I was handed, to face this scraggly manager again.

He had first introduced himself to me as Howard. The guy didn't really look like a Howard, though. White food crumbs from what I presumed was lunch, were still lodged into the tangled webs of his dark brown beard. Everything about him screamed a hot mess. Then again, the establishment I had somehow managed to stumble into was also a hot mess.

"I... I've sold liquor before, yes." I replied hesitantly. Howard gave me a nod.

Technically, I wasn't lying. I had sold liquor at a convenience store down the street from my home. Had I ever bartended before? God, no. But I needed this job. Hell, I need any job.

I couldn't afford to be picky.

"Perfect. We don't do direct deposit, so you'll be receiving a check every two weeks. I'll have you stop by tonight and Kassie, one of our bartenders, will show you the ropes. We'll get you a company shirt as part of your uniform, but in terms of pants, we just ask that you wear something black. No open toed shoes, for your safety of course."

I did my best to make a mental note of everything, but the crumbs in Howard's beard was incredibly distracting.

"I'll be out for the rest of today and tomorrow, but I'll be back in Friday to answer any questions you might still have." Howard explained, as he stood.

I guess that was my indication that this interview was done. 

"I need you in no later than 9 pm tonight. For any reason you can't make it, just shoot me a text to the phone number at the top of that page there." He pointed towards the packet I had clutched between my fingers. Sure enough, he had a phone number scribbled at the top of the sheet.

I gave him a nod. "Tonight at 9. Got it."

Those were the last words we exchanged with eachother. As soon as we made it out of his office, Howard was back at the bar assisting customers. Considering it was only about ten in the morning right now, this gave me a solid few hours to try and get my life straightened out...

Like picking up the keys from the leasing office of my new apartment.

I still couldn't understand how I had been able to find something on such short notice. It was nothing special, actually some would argue the farthest thing from it, but it was also within my price range and that was all I cared about.

A few customers passed my way, as they made it inside the bar and I made it out into the busy streets of New York City.

There was an impenetrable thought running through me. I couldn't help but think to myself, what the fuck was I doing here?

••